Notes from Maine - 2022/11/13
Finn (English Mastiff) had knee surgery on Wednesday. He’s a little better each day, but it’s a lot to handle for him. At night, Albert (German Shepherd) is staying with Mom and driving her crazy. The pills are making Finn sleep quite a bit. Makes one wonder if the pills would be good for Albert as well.
When dealing with a change in routine like this, all the other inconveniences get amplified.
There is hunting drama out back.
I’m not opposed to game hunting. Trophy hunting is ridiculous and gross in my opinion, but I understand predatory impulses for people who eat meat. Frankly, it seems a bit more honest to me than just getting prepackaged meat from the store and pretending it wasn’t a living thing. Anyway, with that in mind, I haven’t ever posted (no trespassing/no hunting) the land out back. When I talk to hunters, I ask them to stay on the other side of the ridge because of the horses. Stress on the horses causes me stress. Recently, a lot more hunters have moved in. There is some town land nearby and they opened a lottery for hunting there. Those people have wandered into the woods out back. My neighbors spend more time back there and they’ve reported garbage, trespassing, and theft associated with the newcomers.
When talking to my neighbor’s son-in-law about where he was pointing his gun, I think I managed to stay civil. It’s hard to say.
Twelve weeks—Finn has to be careful with his new knee for twelve weeks while it heals. This is a difficult concept to relay to him. Each day is a little easier. I’ll focus on that.
In horse news—Earl and Maybelle have a checkup this week. Checkups include vaccinations, which are done with NEEDLES. That loud galloping sound you may have just heard was Earl running for the hills. Ever since one of his hospitalizations, Earl has been terrified of needles. It was a rough night. Imagine a 2,000 pound (900 kg) horse running around a horse hospital, dragging a tiny horse doctor by his lead rope as she tries to tranquilize him. A small aversion blossomed into a full-blown phobia that night, compounded by the fact that his guts were all twisted up and causing him horrific pain.
Since then, I’ve introduced him to an empty syringe. I show it to him, give him a carrot, touch his neck with it, give him a carrot, press it to his neck, carrot, etc. I have a rubber band tied to the syringe so I can snap it against his skin. Earl doesn’t pay attention to the syringe at all anymore. He just wants the carrots. We’ll see if that helps. If there’s one thing he hates more than needles, it’s learning.
Maybelle will be a trooper. She’s good about everything except a closing door. There’s something inside Maybelle that hates a closing door. Even if she’s happily inside with her food and water, safe for the night, she might try to push through the doorway as you close the door to her stall. Then she’ll push her way back inside when she realizes that she’s on the wrong side. We’ve had words about this behavior multiple times. I need to combine the two horses and position a vet with a syringe on the other side of a closing door. Then Earlbelle will run right into the needle.
I did (accidentally) combine Earl and Maybelle a couple of years ago. Their sweet baby is now named Gisele and lives up the road. She’s so pretty. Her birthday is coming up. I’ll have to take her a present. She would never gallop through a horse hospital, trying to stomp a horse vet into a pulp—she’s too perfect.
Mom wants me to let the horses have another baby. She wants to be a “grandmother” again. I’ve discussed this terminology with her before. We’re not genetically related to these horses, and if we were, she would be a Great Grandmother. One might argue that I adopted Earl and Maybelle, making me their “Dad” (gross). What kind of adoptive father would let their babies have babies? So gross. And if I’m their father, that business of snapping rubber bands against Earl’s neck is going to get me in trouble with CPS. I would prefer to think of the horses as a nice May/December couple who live in my guest house (no relation).
I’m living appointment to appointment for the rest of the year. If everything goes well, Finn will be back on his feet by February one. Seems like century from now. I’m sure it will be here soon.
